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User blog:El Alamein/Day Two: Hunger Games Tournament Redux
INTRO VIDEO UNDER CONSTRUCTION Well, ladies and gentlemen, if that wasn't a gruesome start to our Games, then I don't know what is! We've already seen nine of Panem's best and brightest fall victim to one another in the arena, and it's only going to get harder from here! We've had a chance to get to know some of the tributes, so we want you, viewers at home, to feel involved and feel like you can make a difference! Call in or put in your credit card number to send care packages out to your preferred tributes! They'll be needing it, too—I won't give too much away, but there will be an arena event happening in the next twenty-four hours! I hope you're all enjoying the Hunger Games as much as we are here in the Capital! Let's see what happens next! Tributes Here I present the list of tributes and their weapons/backpack loadouts and X-Factor ratings. For more information on their biographies, please see this link. |-| Isabella de Santa (Cfp3157)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 7.15 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *'Close Range - Utility Knife:' A custom-designed blade utilized by Isanella, the blade itself is 10 inches long, has a serrated blade with grooves to prevent blood from spilling onto the leather wrapped handle. It functions as a traditional knife, a hunting knife he can use to skin animals, and as a functional saw. *'Mid Range - Machete:' An all steel axe with a rubber grip and a notch just above the handle about 20 inches long, with an 18 inch blade. The blade of the axe is primarily meant for chopping wood, it can also chop into people with ease. She prefers to not use her machete though, because it requires an amount of skill and combat dedication she prefers to avoid. *'Long Range - Blowgun:' A standard blowgun. Isabella seldom uses this weapon; she either tips it in poison and aims for the neck, or aims for the eyes if she can take the shot. *'Special - Traps:' Isabella, having learned to live off the grid, is an expert trapper and ambusher. Utilizing whatever natural materials around him, Isabella can create almost any trap that can function with enough time. *'Armor - Tactical Suit:' A one-piece body suit that, while offering little in terms of actual protection against weapons, can adjust to whatever natural conditions to ensure survival. It is also easy to camoflauge. Backpack: *A flint and steel fire kit *A dozen pieces of charcloth *A survivalist's mess kit (plate, spork, and mug) *Canteen *Knife and axe sharpeners *Basic first aid supplies (bandages, e-blanket, disinfectant, and allergy pills) |-| Finn Müller (WanderingSkull)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 8.04 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Katar *Mid Range: Kilij *Long Range: Throwing Knives *Special: Spear: Think Oberyn Martell style, perfect for thursts and cutting. *Armor: Spider Silk Cloak: Now I know what you're thinking, why a cloak/poncho? Why not some real armor? Well, its spider silk, incredibly light weight and stronger than steel. The cloak is meant to conceal weapons, your typical cloak and dagger. He incorporates the cloak into his fighting style, using it to blind enemies or as a sort of shield. Plus it provides protection against the elements, is warm (mmmm spider silk) and doesn't even look like armor allowing for surprise attacks or even shocking a foe when the their attack simply bounces off. Backpack: *Water Tablets: Use to purify water as expected *Sharpening Tools: When the vast majority of your tools are blades, sharpening and maintence are going to be needed. *Fire starters: He's already got the cloak to sleep in, but he's going to need a warm to keep himself having some light or to cook food. *Canteen: Used for easy access to maintain and save your water. *Rations: About 2-3 days worth of food. *Rope: Perfect to climb trees, make some traps of if you want to get creative then used to strangle someone or create a noose. *Basic first aid supplies: Bandage, disinfectant, painkillers. |-| Garrett McKinley (Wassboss)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 6.74 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Shark Toothed Club- A small sturdy club about 12 inches long, it has tiger shark teeth carefully melded into it. Garrett also carries around a small pouch of spare teeth in case any become dislodged. *Mid Range: Trident- A long steel trident about five feet long. *Long Range: Atlatl and Spear- While the Atlatl is pretty standard the spear has a tip made from sharpened stone so that it can easily be replaced if it snaps. *Special: Multi Functional Fishing Hook- This tool consists of a large metal fishing hook about the size of a human hand, with four nasty barbed spikes. The hook has a nyon rope attached to it which can be stored within the metal rod holding the hooks together which can be used as a makeshift fishing rod, grappling hook or to trip or strangle and opponent. *Armor: Turtle Shell Shield- Garrett has constructed a circular turtle shell shield which is roughly a metre wide across. Garrett keeps it fastened to his back when not in combat. Backpack: Apparently empty, but things can be placed inside it during the Games. |-| Jessica Wilderson (Appelmonkey)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 7.16 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Bowie knife, used as tool and weapon *Mid Range: Naginata *Long Range: Composite bow *Special: Nails, Jess carries around some nails in her pockets that she throws at the eyes of her oppenents to blind them or at their feet so they will step on it and harm their feet, giving Jess a beter chance to escape. *Armor: Chainmail with steel plates that cover the heart, from front and back. The plates also cover her lungs. She wears a jacket over it to make the locations of the steel plates less obvious. Backpack: Canteen, strong rope, family photo, binoculars, 7 strips of beef jerky, rubbing alcohol, binding wraps, flint and steel. |-| Isaac Darkstone (BeastMan14)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 8.42 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Katar *Mid Range: Glaive *Long Range: Crossbow *Special: Black Eggs. (Yes, the ones from Deadliest Warrior. Not just eggs painted black.) *Armor: Polymer-laced clothing. (Like the Kingpin's suit in Daredevil. Except more casual. Think long-sleeved shirt, hoodie, and pants.) Backpack: Canteen, rations, medical kit, space blanket, and matches. |-| Johann Nilson (Snigel)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 6.25 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Kodachi *Mid Range: Double-handed Axe *Long Range: Modern Crossbow *Special: Crowbar- can be used as a tool and as a weapon. *Armor: Stab vest- like a bulletproof vest, but instead of bullets, it protects against bladed weapons. Not really useful against projectiles, i.e. arrows. Backpack: 1 canteen (filled with water, ofcourse), 3 pieces of medical tape, 1 bottle of alcohol (primarily for medical reasons), 1 MRE. |-| DeJango Farchand (Weew1213)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 7.34 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Gladius *Mid Range: Dory Spear (Can be used as a melee weapon and thrown) *Long Range: Compound Bow *Special: Jagdkommando Tri-dagger *Armor: Scutum Backpack: None. |-| Shiloh Zao (Leolab)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 8.36 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Rampuri *Mid Range: Slotted Bowie Knife *Long Range: Throwing knives *Special: Knifebow: A specialized crossbow designed to shoot small, kifeblade-like quarrels. Each quarrel has a diamond cross-section and is sharp on both ends, with a round, feathered tang. Total length of each quarrel is 12.7 cm length, and is fired at an average muzzle velocity of 106.68 m/s. (Note: pay attention to units) *Armor: Spider Silk camo-patterned lab coat Backpack: *Several small chunks of sapphire, chisel, and hammer to make new knives *Wood and twine to make handle *Three days' worth of military rations |-| Albert Amein (El Alamein)= Official Training Score (Averaged): 7.33 Weapons and Equipment Weapons: *Close Range: Smatchet Knife *Mid Range: Hasta *Long Range: Sling *Special: The Mic - a heavy mace designed to look like a microphone. Albert likes to imagine he'd execute a downed foe with it *Armor: Nasal helmet Backpack: Canteen, water purifying tablets. Roll of bandages. 3 day's worth rations. Binoculars. Whistle. Dark blue wool blanket (blends in with darkness better than black). Change of socks. Hair gel. Mirror. Teams Tributes, if any of you seek to renew old alliances or establish new ones this round, please declare your intent below in comment form. Any allies will have to indicate acceptance through confirmation for an alliance to be considered valid. Otherwise, all tributes will be assumed to be fighting solo. Sponsors All right, eager citizens and spectators, now is your chance to help out your favorite tributes to swing the odds in their favor! The gamemakers will ensure each of your contributions are delivered safely to your tribute! These are the care packages you can send to give your tribute a leg up in the arena: *Medical Kit: A care package with medical supplies, including bandages, antibiotics, and other necessary materials. *Sustenance Kit: A care package with extra rations, a canteen with fresh water, and water purification tablets. *Poison Kit: A care package with poisons (both those that can be applied to weapons and those that can be mixed into food or water). *Clothing Kit: A care package with a set of fresh clothing, as well as a replacement piece of the tribute's armor (helmet, shield, etc) in the event that the original was damaged. *Trap Kit: A care package with material suitable for use to be set up as a decoy or booby trap. Battle The night, ever fraught with peril, sat surprisingly dormant as the tributes staggered, exhausted, to find refuge. It was mercifully cool, with enough moonlight to let the combatants find their way around by sight. It wasn’t an entirely altruistic gesture on the part of the gamemakers, though—they’d use this lull in the carnage to take advantage of several formalities that needed attending to. There was the formal pause as a brilliant electric light shot up into the sky, a holographic projection illuminating itself on the glass roof of the arena’s dome. The tributes inside and audience members watching on TV were treated to a moving display as the somber faces of the previous day’s slain tributes flickered overhead. Each death was punctuated with a lingering cannon’s boom. A few of the more tender-hearted tributes were moved to tears (a sentiment not lost on the gamemakers and the potential sponsors in the Capital), but the vast majority were too tired, numb, or indifferent to care. Finally, the lights dimmed and the music and cannons quieted down. There was still one last thing to be done, though. Silently sliding down from who-knows-where, billowing out like clouds from the darkness, came parachutes guiding meticulously-wrapped packages. Isaac Darkstone, who had built himself a ramshackle hovel out of twigs and leaves, opened his gift in awe to find a new tailored suit—“Don’t worry, it’s still polymer laced! WILDMAN FTW!” read the accompanying note. Garrett McKinley gratefully took stock of his medical kit, as did Jessica Wilderson. Albert Amein, grimacing as he awkwardly rubbed his shoulder, managed a grin on his face as he read the note that came with his medical kit: “You’re a dead man, Al, but this makes us even.” Not wasting time, he set to work trying to treat his festering shoulder as best he could, smearing the antibacterial ointment over the dried blood and oozing pus. The rest of the night passed uneventfully as the tributes opted for sleep. Only Shiloh Zao sat awake, hunched over with her arms around her knees, one hand toying with the blade of a knife as she watched Finn Müller sleep. The merchant is dangerous, Shiloh thought, her heart pounding as she steadied her nerves. He’s a fitful sleeper, too, the bastard. Müller twitched fretfully and rolled over more than a few times as Shiloh tried to ready herself for the act—but this was different. Here sat no screaming berserker attacking her, making the kill swift and thoughtless. It was just a sleeping man, as helpless in this moment as the dozens of children she had watched over during her days as a nurse. Oh, damn it, just—just do it, Shiloh argued with herself. Her arm danced up and down over her knee, the handle of the knife dangling from her fingertips. It was too late, though. Müller sat up. The knife slid quietly back onto the dirt ground below. Shiloh’s eyes met Finn’s for a moment of mutually distrustful silence. I’m still alive, though, reasoned Finn. He broke the silence with a muffled, hoarse grunt of a whisper: “Switch shifts?” Shiloh didn’t want to sleep with the murderous merchant watching over her, but she didn’t want to seem more suspicious than she likely already did, so in compliance she laid back down to the ground, her back facing Müller, her muscles relaxed but alert. After half an hour or so of the quiet stillness, Müller’s regular breathing settled back into the rhythm of sleep. Good thing I’m awake, thought Shiloh. She tentatively sat up, looking over at the merchant. He didn’t move. Taking advantage of this opportunity, Shiloh Zao quietly stole off into the darkness, disappearing, leaving Finn Müller alone as he slept. *** The gamemakers tolerated a few merciful hours of nocturnal peace, but after a while they altered the day/night cycle. Isaac Darkstone opened his eyes as heat and light seeped through his vision, waking him. He dressed in his new clothes, tied his old garments around his forehead, elbows, and knees, and set off with his katar in hand. Walking slightly off the beaten path, he followed the crushed grass and footprints over to a clearing where a tribute had done absolutely nothing to mask their trail. There was a small pond—he almost tripped over the sprawled, mangled corpses of two other tributes, contorted in positions of pain and caked in dried blood. Someone’s been busy, Darkstone thought to himself. A cursory glance showed him all he needed to know. Albert Amein was hunched over at the shoreline with a bottle of hair gel, grooming himself with a little hand-held mirror. He caught glimpse of the approaching career and froze. “Well, hello, there, Isaac,” he said without turning. His voice was hard to read but certainly wasn’t friendly. It was painfully ingratiating, perhaps, but still not quite to the point of begging. Isaac started to slow down as he approached Amein. He wasn’t sure what to expect from the tricky slimeball. “If you just run along, right now, I’ll let you go Albert.” Darkstone stopped, giving his opponent quite the wide berth. There was no need to give his foe the chance to leap at him and get in a lucky blow. “I’m almost done here, Isaac, and then… yeah… we’ll go our separate ways,” breathed Albert. He raised his free hand slowly and ran it through his gelled hair, angling the mirror to keep an eye on his opponent while admiring his handiwork. He moved his head slightly and a beam of sunlight danced off of the mirror, slashing into Isaac’s eyes and temporarily blinding him. He squinted and put a hand up to block the light. “Damn it, Albert—” Darkstone started to growl, but Amein had already jumped up with his knife and swung hard into Darkstone’s stomach. The body armor resisted the blow, throwing Amein off-balance as he stumbled back, his shoulder flaring up in pain. Isaac used Albert’s momentum against him, moving forward and pushing hard on the already-stumbling Capital citizen. Amein fell back hard against the ground, but he wasn’t stunned. He rolled to the side to avoid Isaac’s heavy downward thrust with the katar, which sunk into the soft earth harmlessly. Springing to his feet, Amein dropped his smatchet and picked up his hasta spear that sat on the ground nearby. Trying to keep his opponent at bay, he gave a tentative jab toward the head that Isaac avoided. Visibly frustrated and having lost his only advantage with the initial surprise of his sneak attack, Amein made a last-ditch effort to finish off his foe, stabbing downward toward the knee. Darkstone reached down and caught the shaft of the spear as it slid between his legs, missing his groin by inches. He followed up with a strike from the katar that splintered the shaft, rendering the spear useless. Not giving his opponent any time to recover, Isaac Darkstone moved forward with two giant steps, putting up one arm to catch Amein’s swing with the broken shaft and thrusting the katar into his torso with the other. They locked eyes, Isaac’s hard and angry, Albert’s unfocused and quickly fading. “Well… shit…” he managed, shaking as he sank to the ground. “Beaten in my own game.” Jessica Wilderson watched with horror from the bushes as Darkstone stalked over to the shoreline, checking himself for injuries. She had her bow but quickly decided against trying to aggravate the career tribute. Holding her breath, Jessica felt her body freeze as Isaac looked right at her in the undergrowth. Does he see me? She couldn’t move, but felt her brain screaming at her to do something—it was too late though. Isaac got up and started to move uneasily toward her position. Her eyes darted up at the sky as thick dark clouds started to funnel out over the sunlight. Still rooted to the spot, she gasped audibly as Isaac kept approaching and then passed her spot. He was distracted by something else. What the hell? Smoke was taking to the sky from somewhere off in the forest. Isaac hesitated as he neared the area. In an instant, flames leaped up through the treetops, crackling viciously loud and dancing as they charged down toward his location. He noticed Jessica Wilderson springing from a spot in the bushes and fleeing, before he joined her. The conflagration consumed everything in its path, licking up the dry undergrowth and artificially leaping from tree to tree. This was the work of the gamemakers at its most brutal. *** On the other side of the arena, far from the growing wildfire, Johann Nilson and DeJango Farchand were squaring off. DeJango was hunkered down behind his scutum, angling a dory spear out in an effort to keep his opponent at a distance. Nilson had his double-handed axe brandished. He breathed heavily, trying to recover after fruitlessly battering down on Farchand’s shield. Farchand was equally frustrated, having tried to pierce Nilson’s stab-vest to no great effect. There was a moment’s pause before Johann hurled himself forward once more against DeJango’s shield, swinging hard with his axe. It was an energy-consuming blow, but DeJango staggered back, stunned. Throwing his axe to the side and whipping out a crowbar from his belt, Johann started to savagely beat DeJango, battering his chest and face bloody. Screaming in pain while his attacker shouted in rage, DeJango tried to shield himself from the blows with his arms and hands, but Johann was relentless in his assault. Rolling over to his side, DeJango reached down into his belt and grabbed his Jagdkommando Tri-dagger, stabbing Johann in the wrist, interrupting his attacks. The crowbar fell from his grasp as Nilson flinched from the jab. DeJango took a huge, rattling gasp as he struggled to pull himself to his feet. Blood poured out from the wounds on his forehead, trickling down his face and into his open mouth. He spat in defiance as Nilson looked up in shock. Now it was DeJango’s turn to charge forward, throwing Nilson’s outstretched arms aside and tackling him to the ground. Raising the dagger up overhead, he plunged the weapon down into Johann Nilson’s face, stabbing him repeatedly as his victim flailed and choked under the weight of the blows. DeJango collapsed as his vision swam, falling on top of his slain killer. He fought to hold on to his consciousness, but the blows to his head were too much. His eyes slid closed—he wouldn’t open them again. *** Isabella de Santa, meanwhile, was sitting cross-legged in her little clearing. Well-camouflaged and sustained by her water trap, she felt confident that she could hold out and weather the arena longer than her competitors. Then—footsteps. She looked up as Shiloh Zao stalked into the clearing. They stared at each other. “Food, please.” Shiloh managed. She turned her hands, palms up, in a gesture of helplessness. Isabella hesitated. Shiloh took another step forward and brandished a knife. “I don’t have any food, and I’m hungry,” Shiloh said. Isabella just watched, calmly, as Shiloh stepped down into one of her traps. A vine looped around Shiloh’s ankle and swung her up, dangling from a branch. Isabella stood up and looked at her helpless victim. “I’ll give you food, okay? But no weapons.” Shiloh complied, shaking down a whole host of knives, which landed at the edge of the clearing by a tree stump. Isabella cut the vine, and Shiloh landed hard on the ground. She hesitated and looked up, now at de Santa’s mercy. “You can come closer,” Isabella said. They sat, eating together in silence for a while. “I killed someone,” Isabella said. Shiloh looked over at her but said nothing. “It was almost an accident, or maybe instinct, you know?” de Santa continued. “He saw me first… kind of like how you found me. But he moved too fast, or something, and…” Isabella sighed, in a half-echo of the breath that had killed Francis Howard. “And now I’m here and he’s not.” Shiloh Zao swallowed hard on her mouthful of food before answering. “Well… I mean, I killed someone early on, but then I spared someone later,” she said. “It’s easy to kill when the fighting is fierce and your mind is racing, I guess. You just kind of react. That’s the instinct you’re talking about. But… but when it came down to a personal, intimate murder…” She trailed off mid-sentence, staring into the treeline. Isabella followed her gaze, searching for an intruder, but it became clear that Shiloh was merely lost in thought. “Sometimes that’s all you can do. Just… run.” Shiloh finished her earlier thoughts. “Sometimes you just run and hope that something else takes care of it for you.” “I’ve run my whole life,” Isabella said. “You can only run for so long before you realize that you have to get things done yourself. So now, I just sit here and let things come to me. One way or another—I die, they die… we eat together. Who knows? But when things come, I get something done about it.” Shiloh noticed suddenly that Isabella was looking very intently at her. “I’m sorry, my friend, but I had to get something done about this, too.” There was a sickening lurch in Shiloh’s stomach right before a bile-soaked retch forced up some of her food. “I’ve lived in the wilderness long enough to know what’s good for humans and what’s not,” Isabella said calmly. “I can disguise it, too. You wouldn’t even know you’re eating it until it’s too late.” Shiloh clutched her sides as her body convulsed violently in pain. “I have this, though… antidote. So now, I give you your choice.” De Santa stood and tossed the vial into the brush. “Find it and you’ll be fine. You know, more or less. Vomiting can really cause dehydration if you’re not careful.” Gagging intermittently, her legs weak and her arms shaking, Shiloh Zao stumbled out to the brush on her hands and knees, searching for the vial. “You’ve made quite the mess, though… actually, I didn’t think about that,” Isabella said candidly. “It’s gonna smell really bad in a little bit. I’m going to have to pack up and get going. Good luck.” Almost blind with pain and her head throbbing nauseously, Shiloh finally managed to slip her fingers over the vial Isabella had thrown out. Shakily unscrewing the top, she found a syringe with some sort of chemicals inside. Oh fuck. Well… if it kills me faster than this, at least it will be over, thought Shiloh, before plunging the needle into her arm. She was surprised as how quickly relief came. Shivering and drenched in sweat, Shiloh massaged her stomach, rocking back and forth for a few minutes, waiting for strength to come back to her shaking legs. All in all, though, she was lucky. Shiloh Zao got up, only a little bit hungrier after the encounter, and tried to find her way back to a familiar landmark. *** Garrett McKinley crept low to the ground. As he was walking along the trail, Isabella de Santa had suddenly emerged from the treeline and crossed his path—and she hadn’t even noticed him. Seizing the opportunity, he clutched his shark-toothed club and followed her from a distance, which wasn’t very difficult given her age. He had to admire her thoroughness, though—if he hadn’t been able to maintain visual contact thanks to her slowness, he wouldn’t have been able to pick up a trail by other means. There was a rustling up ahead, though, and both of them stopped as Isaac Darkstone came tearing through at full speed. He crashed into Isabella, and they both fell, but Darkstone merely scrambled to his feet and took off running again. Panic was etched on his face but he didn’t say a word. “What—” Garrett started to say, before he was interrupted by an ear-piercing shriek. Turning, his heart sank. Jessica Wilderson emerged, following Isaac as best she could, clawing desperately at her face and body as she burned alive. The living flame licked at her charred skin, violently killing every pain nerve on the surface of her body while her internal organs and bones slowly cooked inside. Screaming as her skin curled off in peeling black layers, her blood literally boiling on the surface where it bubbled out from the openings in the decaying flesh, she managed to keep running, fueled by some last reserve of adrenaline. Garrett actually fell backward in shock, staring at the dying Jessica. Isabella put her hand to her mouth, eyes widened in horror. Isaac Darkstone disappeared into the undergrowth as Jessica’s strength finally gave out. Her knees buckled, but the momentum carrying her body forward threw her torso to the filthy dirt beneath her. Her cries of agony dwindled down into pitiful whimpers, punctuated only by the frothing gasps she took in an effort to fuel her next yelp of pain. “Oh God!” Garrett finally managed. Before he could even process what he had just seen, though, the roar of the wildfire finally caught up to him. Turning, he felt a wall of heat blanket his face, hugging at his head and dancing at the tips of his ears. An enormous inferno of orange and yellow hissed as it advanced, threatening to overwhelm the tributes in the area. Garrett McKinley leaped violently into the air as a flying ember, as big as a basketball, landed right into his face. Yelling in pain and temporarily blinded, he swatted at his face, trying to put out the smoldering glowing orb. His legs took motion independently, his eyes forcing themselves open through the tears streaming out as he fled the fire. Passing the fallen Jessica, he tumbled out over a hill, scraping himself and breaking a wrist as he rolled to a halt below. The fire danced overhead, clearly manufactured by the gamemakers as it snaked in its linear path, eating alive everything in its way. Isabella de Santa was also running, winded after only the first several meters, gasping for air as the fire greedily sucked up the oxygen around her. In an instant, Isabella was surrounded. The fire outpaced her, but left her unscathed, with a ten-yard radius of blackened grass her only safe space. It was so very hard to breathe, it was so very hard to keep her eyes open… but Isabella stayed calm. This is it. So be it. *** Out of the arena, way out in the Capital, in the gamemakers’ offices, two of the gamemakers were looking over a screen centered on Isabella while having a heated discussion. “For the last time… no! That literally makes no sense and it disrupts the tone of this entire Hunger Games!” one of them, seated at a chair, argued. “It’s what the audience wants!” the other, standing, replied. “It’s what she would want.” “I—I somehow doubt that this is what she would—” “DO IT.” *** From somewhere within the fire, a droning hum reached Isabella’s ears. As she sank to the ground, out burst a swarm of living bees, on fire and maddened to the point of suicidal rage. They descended in a cloud upon the poor woman, tearing at any exposed bit of flesh they could find. It was over almost instantly for her, as her allergies seized up her airways and her veins, as her skin swelled to bursting point, covering her eyes and nose and mouth until she was unrecognizable. The towering inferno danced its approval around the bees, a spitting crackle as the background to their furious buzzing. *** The gamemakers watched, one bouncing with glee as he stood, the other seated and looking down into the screen. This image was to be broadcasted across all the districts of Panem. It would become iconic in its own right, a visceral display of the brutal overkill that symbolized the Hunger Games. Acutely aware of what he had just done, the seated gamemaker ran a shaking hand through his hair. “Fuck. I swear, man. That was excessive.” Post-Battle Commentary Deaths: *Albert Amein *DeJango Farchand *Johann Nilson *Jessica Wilderson *Isabella de Santa Category:Blog posts